odds
by LittlexMissxVicious
Summary: "the odds ain't never been in my favour, honey... i'll still take my chances, though" (finnick odair/oc, with both canon and original characters.)
1. Chapter 1

**ACT I SCENE I**

* * *

 **estella oxley,** _ **district 10**_

* * *

When the sun ascended from behind the horizon and began to illuminate the sprawling green fields of District 10, Estella Oxley was already well past awake and tending to the cows, the crack of her bull whip being the only sound aside from the buzz of the electrical fence and the occasional 'moo'. She'd woken up, washed her face, braided her hair, gotten dressed, eaten and left the cottage before her parents and siblings could even stir in their sleep.

Many of the girls in the District called her crazy; she preferred the term _hardworking_.

Granted, Estella wasn't exactly your average fifteen-year-old girl. Estella was the first child born to Colt and Belinda Oxley in the farming part of the District, the poorer part. Her family's farm was small, only five acres, and was bordered by the Bullion ranch and the large electrical fence that went around the entire District. Colt Oxley had come from a long line of farmers, the farm she grew up on being passed down from his great-great grandfather to his son during the Dark Days and then from his great grandfather to his grandfather, and so on until it came into his hands. He was extremely good looking, having the whole tall, dark and handsome down to a T – it was his good looks and wit that won over Belinda Collins. Estella's mother was born in the richer half of the District to two scientists who worked on genetically modifying the DNA of the livestock. They were well off and more than a little bit snobby, so you can probably imagine the horror of Belinda's parents when she ran off with a poor cattle breeder.

From day one, Estella's goal was to make money. Her goal was to make enough money to ensure that her family was never hungry again.

"My little star, there are only three things I could ever wish from you," Estella's mother used to tell her when she was a toddler, bouncing her daughter on her lap gently as the duo stared from the window, watching as Colt Oxley led the animals back into the stables.

"What is it, Momma?" Little Estella would eagerly question, turning her wide calf brown eyes from the window and locking them with her mother's light blue ones.

"I wish for you to look after your family," Estella was hanging onto her mother's every word, her chubby little fingers twisted into the wispy hair of her grubby doll. "I wish for you to do your duty to your District, and I wish for you to live with honour in your actions."

Estella's dark ringlets bounced as she nodded her head wildly, quietly murmuring to herself. "Family. Duty. Honour."

Belinda Oxley grinned, wrinkles forming next to her eyes. "That's right, my star."

Ever since then, those three words had been Estella's life motto – they were constantly ringing in her head. Even as the dark-haired girl cracked her whip in warning as one of the more tempestuous bullocks snorted angrily and began pawing the ground, her mother's words were echoing in her mind as she pondered about what to do with the particularly difficult cow. _It would be best to just kill it_ , Estella thought, biting her lip as she tightened her grip on the bull whip, knowing that if she was going to take on an angry bull and survive, it would be her skill with a bull whip that protected her – even her father acknowledged his eldest daughter's proficiency with the weapon. _The damn thing is causing more trouble than it's worth._

"That dang bullock has been giving me trouble for weeks." The harsh drawl of her father almost made her turn around, but knew better than to make any sharp movements. "You done gone pissed him off."

"I didn't do nothin'." Estella replied, keeping her eyes on the pacing bullock. "I say we put him down. It'd make life a hell of a lot easier for us and would be nicer on him. Poor things probably got something off in his membrane. Plus he'll make a good steak for a Capitolite tonight." She chuckled humourlessly.

Colt Oxley looked pensive for a moment, his thick black beard had strands of grey and the lines next to his eyes seemed more noticeable in the hot morning sun. "I think you just might be right," he stated, lighting a crude homemade cigarette as he handed his daughter two sheathed throwing knives. "You can take this one, I'm gon' sort out the horses. Be careful 'cause it's fly season." And he was gone, a cloud of grey smoke in his wake.

Estella groaned loudly, forgetting momentarily about the furious bull that was staring her down until a loud 'moo' boomed throughout the holding pen. "Fuck," she muttered as the 1,400-pound bull began to run towards her. Rolling out of the way quickly, she stood and faced it, cracking her whip loudly as she looked for a way out. The bull attempted to run at her again, but this time the sound of a whip sliced through the air as it wrapped around the bull's horns, Estella used its momentum against it and managed to swing onto its back using the whip as she had to hundreds of bulls before him. Jamming her elbow down with practiced precision onto the back of the bullock's neck, she clutched on with dear life as it frantically writhed in an attempt to stop the pain and throw her off. After what felt like hours, but it was probably only a couple minutes, the cow slumped over and hit the dusty ground.

Jumping from the bullock's unmoving body, she checked for eye movement and reflexes to ensure that it was unconscious – it was. Unsheathing one of the blades quickly, Estella didn't even blink as she inserted the sharp blade just above the breast bone, angled towards his head. Blood spurted from the long slice, and she made quick work of decapitating the bullock. Estella smirked slightly as she remembered what her father had taught her about killing cattle.

"Remember to cut off his balls _,_ " he'd said as he watched the five-year-old Estella unsurely go about the bull.

"His balls?" Estella's hands were covered with thick blood that spread to her hair when she used them to brush a curl behind her ear. "What are balls?"

Colt Oxley guffawed loudly. "His knick-knacks." He smirked, popping his tongue twice as he made a crude gesture with his hands. "There," he pointed to them, and smiled proudly as she didn't hesitate and took them off with a single slice, much like she had now.

Standing and re-sheathing the knife after cleansing it from the blood, Estella pondered about what to do next. She knew better than to try to move it alone, but everyone, save her father, was fast asleep. Or so she thought until her mother's voice thundered across the field.

"ESTELLA! GET YOURSELF HERE NOW, OR, SO HELP ME GOD, I WILL WHOOP YOUR ASS!"

Estella's eyes widened and she removed the bloody apron she had haphazardly slung over her powder blue dress – her reaping dress. Dropping the knives, she flung open the paddock door, waiting to ensure it clicked behind her, and sprinted across the field towards the family cottage, where her mother was stood, dark hair neatly tied into a low ponytail and a stormy frown on her face. "Mornin', Mom."

Belinda Oxley was, quite evidently, not in a good mood, and for a good reason too – today was the reaping, today was the day that two of her children could be stolen from her. "What have you been doing? That's your best dress and it's _covered_ with blood!"

"Had to put down one of the bullocks, he's been giving us problems for months. It's what's best for it." Estella defended, a frown on her face.

"Why couldn't your father do it?" Belinda scowled, the expression scarily similar to the one on her daughter's face.

"It was my idea, mama. The man who passes the sentence, should swing the sword." Estella's face was set, her pride getting the best of her.

"You're not a man, Estella." Her mother's fingers wrapped around her sun-browned skin and began dragging her upstairs to the master bedroom, muttering the entire time about 'stupid farmers' and 'goddamned cows'. A dark plum dress with three-quarter length sleeves was handed to her. "Put this on."

Estella undid the front-fastening buttons on the blood splattered dress and took it off, leaving her in the white bra and underwear she was given for her fifteenth birthday by her grandmother. Pulling the plum dress over her head, she stood and the skirt fell to her knees. The dress was pretty, Estella decided after looking at herself in the cracked mirror her mother had propped up in the corner of the room, it was tight around the top, but flowed out to her knees loosely – the dress was probably one of her mother's old ones. "Thank you," Estella smiled kindly at her mother, who seemed to lose a small amount of her tenseness.

"Here," it returned as quickly as it left. Belinda moved and undid the pieces of thin leather that kept Estella's thick locks in two French braids. Running her thin fingers through the inky strands, removing it from the plaits and undoing any tangles, Estella's hair tumbled down to her hip bones in the same loose ringlets she was born with. "There." Belinda nodded approvingly. "Now, go and fetch your brother, you two can walk down to get checked in, and your father and I'll walk down later with Angus and Bucky."

Estella didn't reply, she just left the room and knocked on the door of the room she shared with her eldest younger sibling. "Jackson?" A sniffle could be heard from inside. "Jackie? You okay?" She pushed open the door and frowned at what she saw. "Oh, Jackson, don't cry," this was the twelve-year-old's first reaping and, sat in his best clothes with tears streaming down his face, to say that he was terrified was an understatement. She was across the small room in an instant, sitting down on the bed they shared and bringing him into a bone crushing hug.

Young Jackson was trembling as he rested his head on his sister's bosom. "I'm so scared, Stella. What if they pick me?" He whimpered.

"They won't." Estella forcefully stated, running a hand through his soft black curls. "They won't pick you, okay?"

"Do you piggy swear?" He lifted his head and locked eyes with his sister, the only difference between their eyes was that his were bloodshot and teary.

She felt herself smile at the District children's way of making sure a promise was for real, and wrapped her larger pinky finger around her brother's smaller one. "Piggy swear." She released his finger and brushed his hair from his forehead, kissing it lightly. "Come on, we need to go or we'll be late."

"Is that really a bad thing?"

* * *

It took around an hour to walk from the farm to the centre of town. Their farm was on the outskirts of the District and unless they wanted to drive a tractor – that would probably break down – to town, they would have to walk very briskly to ensure they weren't late. Tardiness to reapings wasn't tolerated and the person or persons in question would be whipped by peacekeepers – which was not something that Estella Oxley wanted to start off her day with.

When the duo arrived at the town centre, Estella pushed away the urge to pull her hand from her brother's sweaty grasp and wipe it free from the moisture. They stopped at the back of one of the relatively short lines that lead to the long tables, where peacekeepers were pricking the fingers of the children and using blood to mark their fingerprints.

"Is it going to hurt?" Jackson's voice had always been quiet, something that never boded well with the Southern drawl all of the farmland-born people had.

"The finger prick?" Estella raised an eyebrow, to which her brother nodded. "Oh, that? No, not at all. Think when a chicken pecks your hand," – seeing his expression of familiarity, she continued – "that doesn't hurt does it?"

Jackson shook his head, but still seemed unbelievably tense. "I don't like this," he whispered as their turn came.

"Neither do I, but it's okay, little lamb," Estella's voice was soothing as she released his hand and stepped forwards with a bright smile, holding out her finger and leaning over the desk to her favourite peacekeeper. "Mornin', Dax."

"Hey, Stell." He replied, pricking her finger and placing it down onto the book, before scanning the bloody swirl. Estella first met Dax on his first day stationed in District 10, when the District 2-born twenty-year-old had stumbled onto their farm by accident while exploring his new post and was kicked in the face by a rearing horse, causing a lot of laughter on eleven-year-old Estella's part as she watched her mother bandage the blushing man up.

"That there's my brother," she whispered quickly, pointing at the boy who resembled a frightened rabbit. "Be gentle."

Dax nodded and Estella stood back, waiting for her brother. She watched silently as he reluctantly held out his finger, and as Dax talked to him so animatedly that the boy didn't even realise that he'd had his finger pricked. "Next!"

Estella joined hands with her brother one more, and she could see that the age pens were almost full. "Alright, I'm going to go with my age group and you need to go over there." She pointed to where a gaggle of twelve-year-olds were stood, all looking like they were about to shit their pants; Estella could see straight through their false bravado. "Look, there's Orford from your school, go stand with him and I'll see you later." She pecked his cheek and pushed him gently towards his schoolmate. "You'll be fine."

The age pen for fifteen-year-old girls was filled with people she wasn't familiar with, so when she slipped in, Estella made an effort to put herself as far away from the other girls as possible. It had been a long time since she'd actually left their farm, having left school when Bucky had been born four years earlier due to her father needing extra help on the farm. She didn't have many friends, and preferred it that way. Looking above the crowds, she stared blankly at the huge screen above the Justice Building.

"Stella!" An excited squeal and arms wrapping around her neck brought her from her thoughts. It barely took her a second to grin widely and close her arms around the waist of her tiny best friend.

Sable Bullion and Estella Oxley had known each other since the first reaping where they discovered that they actually lived next door to each other. The Bullion and Oxley ranches bordered each other, and the two girls had been inseparable since their first meeting, Sable having all but forced her friendship upon her. "Sabe, let go, your pissing off the 'keepers."

The short redhead pulled away quickly and scowled fiercely, smacking her friend's arm. "I haven't seen you in three months!" Each word was punctuated by a slap.

Estella simply rolled her eyes and shoved the smaller girl away. "I've been busy."

"Busy? I'll show you busy, you silly cow–"

"Shut up, it's starting." Another one of the girls hissed as the video they played before every reaping started.

The two girls fell silent and tuned out the video, like most of the other children. Estella's eyes fell on the District escort, Florentina. Every year, it seemed, Florentina Le Ricci's look changed into something more bizarre. This year, Florentina had skin so white that it was translucent, thick purple veins, which were probably tattoos or drawn on, visible. On her head was a spiral-shaped sky blue wig, and her makeup was as dramatic and dark as ever. Her lips were a hot pink that matched her eyes and her shoes. The dress she had on was a shade of yellow so bright it made Estella's eyes hurt. "Oh, I love that," Florentina grinned obnoxiously after the video ended, seeming to miss the icy expressions of the children.

The Capitolite teetered across the stage and towards the bowl filled with names. When you come from a poor starving family, like Estella, or you're too family-orientated for your own good, like Estella, you can opt to take tesserae; each tessera is worth a meagre year's supply of grain and oil for one person and you can do this for each of your family members as well. So, Estella realised with a wince, she had her name entered thirty-two times. Once, because she had to, and seven times for tesserae for grain and oil for herself, her four siblings, and her parents. In her eyes it was worth it, however, as Jackson's name was only in once. "We'll follow District tradition and begin with the boys!" Florentina's voice was screechy and over-excited as she reached her and into the reaping pool filled with thousands of slips of paper.

"...Jackson Oxley!"

Time to seemed to stand still. _I must have heard it wrong. It can't be him_ , she thought, her eyes wide with horror and shock. _No, please, God, don't let it be him_.

But her worst fears came true when a shriek of terror that could only belong to her brother rung out across the courtyard, closely followed by a loud sob from her mother. "NO!" The word left her lips before she could even comprehend it, tears were building behind her eyes as she watched her baby brother walk up onto the stage, tears streaming down his face as he pathetically struggled against the peacekeepers. Estella felt Sable's hand rest on her shoulder, but shrugged her off as the small boy was lifted onto the stage, shaking like a leaf.

Florentina appeared uncomfortable. "There, there," she patted his back awkwardly before smiling brightly again. "Now, the girls." As Florentina's white hand hovered over the names in the bowl, thoughts were whirling through Estella's head faster than ever before. After a few tense seconds, a slip was pulled out and a name was read off: "...Bulla Garcia."

A loud sob escaped the shaking thirteen-year-old and Estella's jaw was set as she blurted out the words that would seal her fate. "I volunteer!"

The silence was deafening. Hands grabbed Estella's arms and she plastered on a harsh glare as she swatted off their hands and walked to the stage, standing out and looking at the crowd, seeing Sable crying with a hand covering her mouth.

"Ooh, a volunteer!" Florentina was even more annoying up close, and her musty perfume made her nostrils sting as the District escort wrapped and arm around her shoulders. "What's your name, dear?

"Estella Oxley." Her voice was as emotionless as her face.

Even Florentina seemed sympathetic. "And I'll bet my buttons that this is for your brother?"

"Yes." Estella's reply was curt and as her eyes travelled across the crowds, she made the mistake of locking eyes with her mother.

"Not my babies," she'd fallen to her knees and was crying harder than Estella had ever seen. "Please, not my babies."

Florentina, rather intelligently, ignored the wails of Belinda Oxley, but Estella couldn't. She couldn't ignore the cries of a mother who was facing losing one or both of her children. The sobs rung in her eyes as she bowed her head, allowing a tear hidden by the thick curtain of hair to fall. "Shake hands," the woman instructed.

Estella turned to her brother and took his hand in hers, shaking it before holding onto it as they were lead into a room of the Mayor's house.

 **~8~**

The siblings were led through several twisting corridors before they were all but thrown into a room.

There was a brief silence before Estella swept Jackson up into a rib-cracking hug, the younger boy's tears wetting her dress. "You promised, Stella," he cried. "You promised they wouldn't pick me."

"I know, I'm so sorry," Estella could feel her heart breaking as she clutched him closer to her. "I'm going to protect you, you're coming out of this alive, understand?"

"What about you?" They locked eyes and she chose her words carefully.

"You're more important." She replied. "You're going to be okay. It's all going to be okay."

The door was flung open again and stood there was their family. "My baby," Belinda had taken Jackson into hug and was crying on his shoulder. "My poor, poor baby."

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Colt Oxley was a stern man, and he'd only become sterner with age. His gaze was angry as he met his daughters eyes, though she could see the inner conflict in them along with an emotion that she hadn't seen from him in a long time: pride. "You stupid girl."

Colt's strong arms wrapped around his daughter and she buried her face in his chest like she did when she was a child. "I wasn't, I just want to keep him safe. I couldn't leave him. Please understand, Daddy, please don't be angry."

He released her from the hug, but kept his hands on her upper arms. "You're a fucking idiot, but no you ain't no coward." Colt shook her slightly but hugged her once more, kissing her hairline. "Keep him safe, Estella."

"I will." She whispered as he released her.

Estella barely had a second to breathe before she was tackled by her mother. "You silly girl, you silly, silly girl. My silly, silly girl." Belinda Oxley was past the point of coherency, utterly distraught at the situation her family was facing.

"Mom, it's okay. I'm going to keep him safe. He's going to come home." She assured her mother, wiping her tears.

"But what about you, my little star?" Belinda sniffled.

"I want a proper District send off." Estella's words sent new tears falling form her mother's eyes – her baby was planning her own demise to protect her brother.

Belinda sobbed brokenly and pulled away, gripping her daughters face between her calloused hands. "Remember our words: Family, Duty, Honour." A lone tear streaked down Estella's face and she nodded, inhaling sharply. " _V_ _olver a mí, mija_ _._ "

It had been years since Estella and her mother conversed in the old language, and she let out a strangled sob at the words. " _Voy a, mamá._ "

"Oh, my baby," Belinda wailed.

"Stella?" Hands tugged at the hem of her dress and she released her mother and crouched down to the level of her youngest siblings. It was little Bucky that spoke, his glassy brown eyes curious. "What's going on?"

Estella winced and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'm going away for a while." She replied calmly, ignoring the lump in her throat.

"How long for?" Bucky Oxley was only four, but already, his eyes held a spark of intelligence that made him seem far wiser than his young years.

"A long, long time, little lamb." Estella replied, brushing a curl from his forehead. Bucky fell into a thoughtful silence before flinging his skinny arms around her neck.

"I don't want you to go!" Angus' voice held all of the immaturity Bucky's didn't. The six-year-old was going through his _I-want-what-I-want-and-I'm-going-to-get-it_ phase. He stamped his foot and pouted, clutching his sister's hand. "You're not going!"

"Stop it, Angus." Colt snapped, cuffing the boy round the back of the head. "She has to leave."

At that moment, the door swung open. "Goodbyes are over." The peacekeeper gruffly stated, beginning to throw the family from the room.

"Be careful. Do what you need to do – think about the consequences later," her father quickly advised, showing himself out of the room after roughly shoving the hands of the peacekeepers off of him.

"I love you!" Estella's voice was the last thing the Oxley's heard as the heavy door slammed shut and she and Jackson were left alone until the crying Sable burst through the doors, flinging her arms around Estella's neck in a hug so tight she felt as though she was being strangled.

"Oh, my God." Sable was dribbling, sniffling, hiccupping and crying – Estella really didn't know which to sort out, so allowed the girl to cry, feeling a few of her own tears slip as well. "How could you do this?" Sable unwound her arms from Estella's neck and forced the taller girl to meet her almond-shaped brown eyes, the two of them realising that this would be the last time they'd ever see each other. "Bring him back alive," Sable's eyes flickered to Jackson, "you're brave, Stell. You know how to fight. Use a whip and throw knives. If anyone could do it, it's you."

Estella's eyes were filled with tears and she looked terrified, her breathing quickening as it really it her what she'd done. "Please look after them," she murmured. "Please, don't let them starve. Sable, promise me you'll keep them safe."

"I promise." Sable didn't hesitate. "My great uncle, he's missing his legs. He'll be your mentor. Tell him that it's Jackson that he needs to focus on, he'll do his best. He's kind." Sable reached into her pocket and produced a leather bracelet, tying around Estella's wrist. "Here, this can be your token."

The leather was old and browned, sun-dried and had obviously been worn many, many times, there was a small crucifix pressed into the side. She faintly recognised it as being the bracelet Sable's father had given to her when she was a child – the girl had never parted with it. "Sable..." Estella whispered, but was interrupted by another fierce hug.

"May the Lord protect you." Sable muttered as the peacekeeper barged into the room. "Both of you," she pressed a quick kiss to both of their cheeks as the peacekeeper pushed her from the room, leaving the siblings alone.

* * *

The duo were led from the Justice Building and onto a huge train, where Florentina showed them their rooms, requesting that the siblings met back in the main compartment in an hour.

"So this is it." Jackson said, lying back on Estella's bed.

"I guess it is," she joined him and they fell silent for a long time, hands joined as they took comfort in the simplicity of the moment; the calm before the storm.

"What's an hour?" Jackson's question came out of the blue and Estella jumped at his words.

"I'm not sure, maybe it's some kind of Capitol thing." Estella replied, biting her lip in thought. "I think it's got to do with time..."

"What?" Jackson giggled, and Estella joined him. "How can an 'hour' help you tell the time?"

"No idea," Estella snorted. "Probably a posh word for the sun. Wouldn't expect Florentina to know about the sun, though, with how pale she is, and all."

Jackson nodded in agreement. "Speaking of the sun, what time is it?"

Estella stood and looked out the window, finding the blinding sun easily. "One o'clock."

"Oh," he replied, standing too. The duo watching as the green fields of District 10 slowly began to disappear.

* * *

Translations:

 _Regresa a mí, mija_ \- Come back to me, my daughter

 _Voy a, mamá_ \- I will, mom

 **A/N: I'm backkkkk! I've decided to restart this story, with a new plot and starting point. I loved/love this story loads, and I lost my inspiration with it for a while, but I've got back into it and have already got a plan for the story, with a large portion of it already written. I'm still a little unsure about the decision, and I would love to hear your feedback on it - should I carry on? Or should I try again with the other one? Let me know what you think by reviewing, or just PMing me. Your reviews and feedback are/is** **greatly** **appreciated!** **Please review, follow & favourite!** **LittlexMissxVicious X**


	2. Chapter 2

**ACT I SCENE II**

* * *

 **estella oxley,** _ **district 10**_

* * *

A succession of quick knocks on the door brought the Oxley siblings from their reverie. Raising an eyebrow at her brother, Estella had to hide a smirk as Florentina burst through the sliding door of her room. The Capitolite's wig was askew, her genetically modified eyes ablaze with what Estella assumed was anger.

"I said," her voice was tight. "To be in the compartment in an hour. It has been over two."

Little Jackson seemed oblivious to her anger. "What's an hour?" He questioned as they followed the fuming woman to the main compartment. "Does it mean the sun?"

Florentina looked aghast. "What?" She shrieked, turning on the heel of her stiletto as she faced them. "You don't know how to tell the time? Oh, goodness me, what have I been cursed with this year?"

"I'd watch your words, if I was you, Florentina." Tom Bullion was the Victor of the 22nd Hunger Games. His voice was kind and soft, and he seemed to be in his early to mid sixties. Estella had seen him before around town, being pushed in a wheelchair by a young woman. It only took her a minute to figure out that he was the mysterious great-uncle with no legs that Sable would never shut up about. "I have every faith that our tributes know how to tell the time. I'm Tom."

Estella shook his proffered hand, her calloused hands felt rough against his wrinkly ones. "Estella Oxley. This is my brother, Jackson."

Tom's warm brown eyes softened as he took in the siblings, his warmth was a welcome change from Florentina. "It's nice to meet you both. Though, I must admit, the circumstances aren't exactly pleasant."

The siblings, Tom and Florentina all sat down on their own respective chairs. The aging man opposite the young tributes. "Now, first things first. You're going met the crowds. Wave, blow kisses, whatever. Waving and things like that will get you more sponsors. After that, your prep team is going to sort you out and prep you to meet the stylist. Don't argue with them. After that you'll met our District stylist, Tigris, and you'll get onto the chariots. Got it?"

Jackson and Estella were rather surprised at the bombarding of instructions, but nodded dumbly anyway. "How long is the journey?" Jackson asked after a while.

"Not long," Tom replied serenely. "We're nearly there now. You can take a shower or just stay in the same clothes, if you like."

The siblings and District partners shared a look, a silent conversation not being missed by Tom, who winced at his thoughts.

 _One or both of them are going to die_ , he pondered, _and I don't think either of them will be able to handle life without the other_.

* * *

As the train drew nearer to the Capitol, Tom requested that the Oxley siblings sit and watch the recap of the reapings with him. Though not exactly something they wanted to do, Estella and Jackson agreed and, clutching hands, they sat together on the sofa as names were called.

It was rather strange to watch, really. Estella was sat there watching as strange looking people – Florentina, much to the amusement of the District 10 residents, seemed to agree, throwing in snarky comments about the clothing of her fellow escorts – picked out names from a bowl and read them out, sending children to their probable deaths.

The two from 1 were Careers. Bastion Knight and Ruby Zeppelin were lethal looking. The boy was thin, but his tall body was lean and muscular – he was quick looking and his mossy eyes were covered by pin-straight strands of greasy brown hair. It was the girl that Estella thought was a threat; she was arrogant and beautiful, her face angular and harsh. The District 1 female had hair so blonde it appeared white, the tight ponytail she'd scraped it into only served to make her more sharp-looking and intimidating as she stepped forwards, volunteering before their District escort had even finished calling out another girl's name.

Like the duo from 1, eighteen-year-old Invictus Hadley and sixteen-year-old Petra Mason were Careers – though Petra looked significantly less competent than her beast of a partner. Invictus was, admittedly, rather handsome with his bright blue eyes and blonde hair, his tan skin had several small scars dotted over it. Petra had wide brown eyes and flowing auburn hair, her skin was pale and the only flaw in her appearance that Estella found was a tooth that protruded slightly from the row of teeth. Both tributes shared the same athletic physique and arrogant demeanour. Invictus, like her, was a volunteer.

District 3's tributes, Rakesh Huxley and Futura Boolean, were both slim and redheads, sharing intelligent, darting eyes. The girl, who was around Estella's age, began to shake as her name read out, looking like she wanted to faint as was dragged onto the stage. Rakesh handled it better, and bowed his head, silently walking to the stage, plastering a weak smile on his face.

Sixteen-year-old Nemo Salton was easily one of the most attractive boys that Estella had ever seen. His skin was golden, muscles rippling under the fabric of his shirt as he flung his arm into the air, volunteering with more vigour than she thought possible. He was dangerous-looking, and his eyes grew darker as he saw who his District partner would be. Sirena Reeds was around seventeen-years-old, and had the look of a girl who had been pampered her entire life. It wasn't that that annoyed Estella, though, it was the utter excitement on the girl's face when their escort pulled out her name.

The tributes from 5 were both extremely intelligent-looking. Much like the two from 5, they had quick, calculating gazes and seemed to be more likely to win by brains than brawn. The boy was named Edison Watt and the girl was called Zippina Keller, both were fifteen-years-old and around medium height. Neither cried as they were reaped.

The boy from 6 wasn't much to look at; seventeen-year-old Titus Fenton was average height and acne-ridden, but Estella could see something she didn't like in his eyes. A cold spark of insanity that was just waiting to be ignited. It made her want to wash herself as a shiver went down her spine – she'd have to keep her eye out for him. The girl, Aranrhod Brunel, was sixteen and absolutely terrified, the tiny redhead was shaking, crying and looked like she was about to faint or vomit, or both, as she stumbled towards the stage.

Rowan Steen was fourteen-years-old and about 6'2". His height, however, wasn't to his advantage as the lanky boy tripped over his own feet as he made his way up to the stage – his arms were rather large, disproportionately so, causing the siblings to come to the conclusion that he worked in the woods, chopping up trees. It was the girl that caused Estella's blood to run cold; Acacia Barker was absolutely tiny, a mere wisp of a twelve-year-old. The small girl's big brown eyes were watery as she ignored the cries of who Estella assumed was her younger sisters. The girl looked like the female version of Jackson and it broke her heart.

The tributes from District 8 were rather unremarkable; Flax Dresser and Twyla Burton were both tearful and whimpering as they stood on the stage. While not as malnourished as the farmland-born people, the boy and the girl were both skinny with protruding cheekbones. It was Jackson who noticed the only remarkable thing about the two – the duo from 8 seemed to be sending each other meaningful glances. Estella decided to keep an eye out for their possible alliance.

When Estella saw Barley Miller, she immediately felt a pang of sympathy for the disabled boy as he used crutches to haul himself onto the stage, seeing Tom tense in the corner of her eye. The sympathy was replaced by respect at the hard expression on the boys' freckled face as he wobbled, not allowing himself to cry – he was a goner and he knew it. Steeling herself as she looked to the girl, Estella's first reaction was to be repulsed by the blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl, who was easily the most vain person that Estella knew despite having never met her. The girl was, very obviously, from the wealthier part of District 9, but, unlike the rich kids in Estella's own District, Maizie Barric seemed cruel.

Jackson and Estella Oxley, though evidently siblings, seemed to be polar opposites as they stood next to each other on the stage; one was weeping, crying for his mother, where the other was staring out defiantly, her pretty face showing no emotion as she clenched her jaw tightly. The camera panned out to show the crowds of District 10, all stood there with the hard expressions their District was known for. Pure tension and fury over what had happened clear in the eyes of the farmers – they knew that Estella Oxley had just gave away her life in an exchange with the devil to save her brother. It was suicide. And they didn't like it. The silence of the farming District wasn't the silence usually maintained for the poor children picked, it was a silence that spoke volumes. A silence that was screaming _this is wrong, we do not condone, we do not agree_. A silence that was deafening.

Estella didn't know how she hadn't picked up on this during the reaping.

"Truly heart breaking, so much beauty and bravery going in from District 10." Caesar, who had deep green hair for this year's Games, sniffed, taking out a silk handkerchief and wiping under his eyes with it. "The 66th Annual Hunger Games will certainly be an interesting one."

Till Dunley and Peara Whent were eighteen and fourteen years old respectively. They were both rather tall and malnourished-looking – their clothes hanging from their skinny bodies and their cheekbones protruding from their face in the same way Estella's own did. Both tributes from 11 had black hair, with dark eyes and darker skin.

Neither Ash Black and Azalea Cole were anything close to a threat. Both came from the sixteen-year-old age pen and shared the same black hair, olive skin and grey eyes. The two tributes from 12 were obviously from the poorer part of the District, if their hollow, sunken-in faces were anything to go by.

When the television screen went black, signalling the end of the recap, the inhabitants of the compartment stayed silent for a while, all pondering over what they'd just seen. Estella didn't like it, she didn't like the self-righteous Careers, or the snobby girls from 4 and 9. But most of all she didn't like that her baby brother and little Acacia Baker were going to be in there with her. There was no honour in this situation and she hated it.

Florentina was still bitching about the other escorts – especially one called 'Effie' – when Tom turned to them, a grave look in his eyes. "I don't like the look of the boy from 6." He muttered into the ear of Estella, both keeping their eyes trained on Jackson to ensure the conversation didn't reach his ears.

"Neither do I. Looks mean as a rattlesnake does that one," Estella replied, a crease appearing on her brow. "I'm watching out for him. And the two from 8... Cousins, maybe? Relationship?"

Tom nodded thoughtfully, "perhaps."

"Are we nearly there yet?" Jackson's voice floated through the compartment.

His question was answered by the sounds of raucous cheering reaching their ears from the left side of the train, standing and rushing to the window, Estella held back a gasp at what she saw.

In front of her was a sea of people, flashes of technicolour making her eyes hurt slightly as their screams and cries of joy filled her ears. Hundreds of people with weird hair and strangely-coloured skin, dressed in bizarre clothes were waving madly, screeching their names excitedly.

"Wow," she gasped at the blurs of colour, the train pulling to a slow stop. A small hand slid into her calloused one, and she squeezed it lightly.

"Yeah." Tom smiled slightly, rolling his wheelchair to be next to the siblings. "Wave," he advised. "Give them a show."

Estella had never felt more awkward in her life as she plastered a smile on her face, deep dimples appearing on both of her cheeks as the corners of her eyes scrunched up and gave her crow's feet, blowing the occasional kiss and not bothering to repress laughter at the dramatic man on the front row who made a show of catching the kiss and falling back into the crowds. Beside her, Jackson had found himself slowly gravitating closer to his sister, clutching her hand like it was his lifeline – the Capitol were eating it right up, Tom smiled as he offered a shy wave.

"ESTELLA! JACKSON! OVER HERE!"

Jackson's hand tugged hers slightly, "I don't like this, Stelly." He whispered, and Tom patted his shoulder reassuringly.

"This is only the beginning, Jack." Estella's voice cracked slightly as they pulled into a tunnel, the cheers becoming more faint and the faces, along with her smile, disappearing from sight as she took a deep breath and squeezed her brother's hand tightly, the siblings sharing a look.

It was then that Tom realised Estella needed Jackson just as much as he needed her. She may be his lifeline, his protector and somebody that he literally and figuratively depended on, but Jackson for Estella was her entire universe, she would give up everything to ensure he was okay, and believed she was doing the right thing in doing so, stubborn in her decisions to do with her family. It worried old Tom, as he feared that their bond would result in both of their deaths.

* * *

Estella and Jackson were pulled from the train before it had even fully stopped and separated, two trios taking both of them in opposite directions and barrelling them into a small, square room with an examination bed in the middle and a table next to it that had things Estella didn't recognise laid out on them.

The trio were all equally weird-looking. The first one to introduce himself was a man named Valentino, his skin was dyed a minty green and had silver tattoos surrounding his own hazel orbs. Valentino's hair was a blue-black shade that matched his lips. The second had dark blue hair and took Estella's hand within her soft, light blue one and smiled kindly, her white teeth gleaming as she informed the girl that her name was Emilie. The third was named Cassia – or Cassia Prudence, as she'd introduced herself as, but received a nudge and eye roll from Valentino and Emilie for her pompous introduction – and had her flame orange hair in a perfect pin-straight bob that ended at her chin.

The prep team stripped her of the plum dress and underwear, staring at her naked body critically. Estella winced and attempted to cover herself as her cheeks burned, but was quickly stopped by Valentino. "You've got a nice body," he said, gripping her wrists gently. "Breasts are on the small side but they're perky, once we get rid of the body hair, you'll be a vision, darling."

"A solid nine," Cassia nodded, her hair somehow not moving with the action.

"Thanks?" Estella's confusion and embarrassment made it sound more like a question.

Emilie clapped her hands, seemingly bored of the chatter of her colleagues. "Let's get to work."

Estella was pushed back onto the bed and before she could even register it, a warm paste was spread over her shin, a sharp tug was felt and a stinging pain appeared on her shin. "Ouch," she leaned up, staring down at her leg, where a rectangle shaped red mark was left. "What was that?"

"I waxed a strip on your leg." Valentino spoke slowly, starting to do it again as Cassia's hands began to play with her hair.

"You really do have pretty hair," Estella could hear the smile in her voice. "It's so thick and lush and the colour is _gorgeous_ , it's so black it's almost blue… Like the night sky."

Her cheeks tinged pink again. "Oh, it's a family thing, I guess."

Hot water was poured over her hair and Cassia's hands worked a liquid into it, working it into her scalp as Emilie took her hand once more, inspecting it with a grimace before getting to work.

Estella didn't say anything for a long, long while, simply staring at the ceiling while letting out the odd grunt of pain when Valentino caught a sensitive spot, listening blankly to the mindless chatter of the prep team.

"Oh, yeah, my sister met Finnick Odair–"

" _The_ Finnick Odair?" Cassia's hands stilled in her hair at Emilie's words. "Are you serious?"

"Yes." The trio squealed happily about the Victor of the 64th Hunger Games.

"Oh, the things I'd do to him." Valentino seemed to be on the verge of salivating as he rubbed a thick cream over her red raw – but hairless – body.

"I'd teach him a thing or two, if you catch my drift." Emilie smirked slightly.

"What about you, Stella, what would you do to that sexbomb?" Cassia looked at the girl, looking slightly terrifying from the upside-down angle Estella was seeing her at.

Feeling a small prickle of annoyance at the Capitolite using one of her nicknames, Estella answered politely, "I don't know, I don't remember what he looks like."

It was true – the 65th Hunger Games, and all the other ones, had been avoided like the plague by Estella. She faintly recalled being forced to watch the reaping, but had managed to avoid watching everything else by sneaking out into the fields whenever it was showed, tending to the animals.

Valentino dropped his tweezers and the trio stared at her horrified for a full minute before Emilie rushed to her feet and brought back a photo of Finnick Odair.

Taking the image in between her hands, Estella stared down at the picture thoughtfully. Finnick Odair, was indeed gorgeous – bronze haired, golden skinned, pearly white teethed and sea green eyed, Finnick was a work of art, the thing of dreams back in District 10. Blowing out a puff of air as she handed the image back, Estella's head was in dreamland.

"What do you think?" Cassia beamed excitedly.

Estella snapped from her thoughts, a small blush high on her cheekbones. "Well," she grinned mischievously. "I wouldn't kick him out of bed if he crawled in."

The trio stared at her for a second before a loud laugh escaped Valentino, followed by what sounded like an explosion of giggles from Emilie and Cassia, and finally Estella allowed a chuckle to slip past her lips, smiling at her prep team.

Eventually their laughs subsided, and the four sobered. "Well," Emilie's cheeks were flushed red. "You're done, my dear. It's time, I'll go get Tigris."

The trio had left the room before she could even say anything, leaving her naked, cold and alone. Drawing her knees up to her chest and placing her hands over her ears, barely a minute had passed before the door opened again, and there stood was the strangest woman that Estella had ever seen.

The woman caused Estella's eyes to widen almost comically; the way she looked transcended the typical fashion of the Capitol. She was near skeletal and all her bones prominent, her cheekbones were high and her jaw strong. Her face was dyed a golden yellow colour, with tattoos in the pattern of a tiger's stripes covering her entire body. The woman's head was shaved, and she had slit-shaped cat eyes along with whiskers. She had made herself look like a big cat.

"Hello, I'm Tigris." She said, her voice serene and calm as she circled her in a predatory way that matched her feline appearance. Tigris' golden eyes took in all of Estella's body, her eyes swallowing her as the silence deafened her. She shivered and the woman spoke again, a fluffy white robe in her hands. "Here, put this on and sit." The two sat down on the bed and Tigris clapped her hands, causing Cassia to rush into the room with a dress bag in hand before hanging it up and leaving the room. "I watched your reaping."

"Yeah?" Estella raised a plucked eyebrow.

"Yes." Tigris nodded. "What you did was very brave, child."

"There was no other option, I'm not letting him die." Estella's voice held no room for argument, and Tigris raised her own invisible eyebrow.

"Okay." The woman's teeth were filed into a cat-like sharpness. "For the parade, I've collaborated with your brother's stylist. We're rather proud of the costumes, actually."

Estella frowned slightly. "As long as it's not a cow suit."

A soft, tinkling laugh escaped the strange woman. "It's not a cow suit, that I can guarantee. Stand, I'll help you into it."

Estella stood, allowed the stylist to disrobe her and let Tigris help her into the outfit, Cassia being brought back in to do her hair and Emilie helped Valentino with the makeup. It took a while, but when it was done and she was stood in front of a mirror, the slight pain became worth it. She was in a tan all-in-one corset that had thin dark brown shapes such as the Taurus bull patterned across it; a belt the same colour as the patterns was seamlessly attached to thigh high boots, the tan skin of her inner thighs and the top of her legs was on show; a thick cream-white train flowed out behind her, reaching the floor. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun with braids running through it, wispy tendrils framing her face; on the each side of her head there were small dark brown horns similar to that on a bull. The makeup was warm, shades of brown making her deep-set eyes look even more striking than usual, and her golden eyeliner brought out the flecks of gold in her eyes; her full lips painted a dark pink colour and her already prominent cheekbones appeared to be sharp enough to cut glass.

"Wow, thank you," Estella's southern drawl was quiet as she stared at herself.

Tigris smirked happily, her eyes glowing at the praise. "We'll bring your brother in now, child."

Estella nodded, and grinned widely when she saw him. Jackson was dressed in a tan tailcoat with patterned dark brown lapels and the Taurus symbol covering his left shoulder; his shoes were identical to Estella's own, though his lacked the heel and they stopped at just above his knees rather than mid-thigh; a pair of tight shorts the same colour as her train bore the pattern on her corset. His black hair had been tousled and, like her, there were dark brown horns poking through the thick locks.

"You look good, Jackie." Her eyes met his and he surged forwards, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

"Come on, you two," Otto, Jackson's stylist, smiled jovially. "It's time."

* * *

Otto, Tigris, Tom and Estella and Jackson came to a stop in a huge, huge room that had all of the tributes, along with their chariots and horses, in it.

Leaning so she was level with Estella's ear, Tigris whispered with laughter lacing her tone. "Look at the state of District 3. They look like they're about to be cooked."

Estella's heavily lined eyes turned to the tributes from 3, and a small laugh escaped her lips – though, her amusement was more from the shade her stylist just threw than their outfits. Rakesh and Futura looked like they had been wrapped in some kind of shiny metal foil that had creases and crinkles marring the material, a silver chain-link robe was thrown casually over their shoulders and they both had on ugly, spiral-shaped grey headdresses.

"Come on, we need to get you two on your chariot." It was Otto that spoke this time. Compared to Tigris and the prep team, Otto was rather subtle – his skin was a coffee shade and his eyes a warm honey lined with a deep blue eyeliner that matched the highlighted streaks in his black dreadlocks.

Estella and Jackson followed the stylists to a sleek chariot made of dark brown wood. The mahogany horses were American Quarter Horses, around three or four years old and had been bred in her District. _Probably the Shire Ranch_ , she pondered as she glanced over the horse, running a hand over its nose as she remembered the family that raised some of the best foals she'd ever seen.

Climbing onto the chariot as gracefully as she could in the six inch heels she had on, Estella stood up straight and kept her head fixed forwards as Jackson climbed on beside her and slipped his hand into hers as her eyes scoped out her fellow tributes, most of whom looked rather ridiculous – 1 was draped in jewels and a purple silk cloth; the duo from 2 were dressed in gold plated armour that emphasised their muscular bodies; the two from 4 were wearing scaly red underwear with a blue net that had starfishes and fish woven into it thrown over their bodies; 5 were dressed as satellites made from sequins; the two from 6 were dressed as stop signs; 7 were lumberjacks in red flannel shirts and bark printed trousers; the two from 8 had on a strange bloomers and vest combo made from a mishmash of orange, green, pink and blue fabrics; 9 were in grass skirts and were probably meant to look like grain; the tributes from 11 had on outfits made from maize leaves, headdresses made from fruit precariously balanced on their heads and, with a pang of pity, Estella realised that the two from 12 were naked and covered in soot.

Estella was broken from her thoughts by a hand been laid on hers. "Smile, Estella." Tom advised. "Blow kisses, wink, wave. You need sponsors, girl."

Biting her lip as the horses began moving on their own, pulling the Oxley siblings away from their District team and out in front of the Capitol.

The loudest cheers she had ever heard filled her ears as their horses speeded down the runway, feeling slight panic rise at the sheer numbers of people staring at her, wanting to know more as she was showcased like some kind of show pony. Clutching Jackson's hand tightly, she shook her head slightly and steeled her nerves. Frenzied screams and cries echoing loudly as she plastered a charming smirk on her face and waved happily, blowing kisses and raising their joint hands into the air as Jackson blushed unsurely, smiling shyly and waving. "ESTELLA! JACKSON!" Chants of their name, along with the names of other tributes, sounded loudly as she caught a pristine white rose, blowing a kiss in the general direction it came from.

The horses drew up as part of the semicircle, all eyes of staring up at President Snow as he began the same speech he gave every year. As the speech ended and the cheers resumed, Estella locked eyes with the President, lifting her chin defiantly and clenching her jaw as he raised an eyebrow.

 _Let the Games begin, Miss Oxley_

* * *

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 **A/N: Okayyy, so thank you to the people who favorited/followed/reviewed, it's really appreciated. I hope you like this chapter - let me know what you think, feedback is always great.**

 **Estella and Jackson's outfits for the tribute parade: . /pin/507077239266308526/**

 **Please review, follow & favourite!** **LittlexMissxVicious X**


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